001 Introduction
by southernveggie
Summary: Fic 1 of the 100 Hetalia Theme Challenge! England swallowed and wished he was at the pub when he saw his son of sorts just waltz in and take a seat. Didn't that twit have any sort of respect for him?


"Hi! I'm the United States of America; it's nice to be here!" Alfred declared to the other countries in a loud, but friendly tone. It was his first World Summit as an independent nation and he was bursting with excitement; he was sure that together, they could do whatever heroic things were needed to help the Earth.

Smiling around the room at everyone, he happily took his seat; scanning the last few faces…his smile nearly faltered…England was here.

Well, what had he expected? England was a world power, wasn't he?

Quickly looking away from his former caretaker, he tried not to fidget in his seat, or let his face betray any sort of emotion. He should've known that he'd need more time to cope with the new distance between England and himself.

Sometimes his optimism really came back to bite him.

Oh well, it was just one little meeting; surely he could get through it, right?

Heroes did that sort of thing all the time, most likely.

England swallowed and wished he was at the pub when he saw his son of sorts just waltz in and take a seat. Didn't that twit have any sort of respect for him?

Or even guilt over how he'd hurt him?

He decided that he probably didn't…otherwise, how could the boy have even had the nerve to aim a musket at his own father?

Trying hard to keep a disgusted glare off his face, he sat quietly, doing his best to ignore the young- and now independent, nation.

The boy had some nerve.

America wondered if he should say anything to England…what if he got angry though?

Maybe he'd brought his musket with him and wouldn't think twice about shooting him this time…?

He shuddered; how could he think such awful things about the man who had raised him?

England would never do such a thing…

Then again, he'd never of thought that England could point a musket at him either, or that he could aim a musket at the other nation too.

Surely England understood what he'd rebelled for…didn't he?

One glance at the green-eyed nation's cold expression told him the answer.

America swallowed; England wasn't even looking at him and he could feel how angry he was. After the meeting, he was just going to leave; saying something to England would probably just upset him even more.

England clenched his teeth; America had looked at him, had noticed how angry he was, and had had the gall to seem hurt. What right did he have to hurt?

He wasn't the one who had spent the last few fourths of July completely drunk, was he?

He wasn't the one who had to live thinking that his child hated him…

No, he was just a smiling idiot without a care in the world; the bloody git.

He probably wouldn't even have the nerve to speak to him at all.

As the meeting came to a close, America stood up, "Thanks for inviting me, everybody! See you next month!" he said, feigning carefree cheerfulness. Then trying very hard not to cast a glance at his enraged father figure, he slowly walked out the door.

Somehow, pretending he hadn't seen England seemed like the best solution.

England waited until he was sure America had left the building before getting up and making his own way out. So Alfred had simply decided to pretend he didn't exist?

That was fine with him; he didn't want anything to do with such a traitorous twit anyway…

America unwrapped his burger with slightly shaking fingers; he knew he was too upset to really enjoy the food, but it would be a comforting habit of familiarity.

He felt like such an idiot…he should've said something at the meeting, but what could he have said?

He wasn't sorry about the revolution, he was just sorry that it had hurt England, but that wouldn't be good enough for Arthur, would it?

No, pretending that he hadn't seen him was best for now. Until he could think of something better, anyway.

Besides, England probably didn't want to have anything to do with him anyway.


End file.
